Page 96 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

One of the stone rooms was completely bare, devoid of anything but a single light bulb, a drain in the floor – and a man tied to a chair in the center of the room.

His face was a mess, with one eye swollen shut and the rest of it bruised and bloody. His white dress shirt was spattered with red.

Adriano stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, watching his captive like a vengeful demon. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, though that was probably to make it easier to throw punches.

As soon as Dario and I walked in, Lazaro looked up with his one good eye and blanched in terror.

“I didn’t do anything, Don Rosolini,” he pleaded, though the words came out distorted through his swollen lips. “I swear on the Virgin Mother, I – ”

“Shhhhh,” Dario whispered gently.

Lazaro stopped speaking, though he continued to whimper.

“Do you have his phone?” Dario asked Adriano, who pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over.

I noticed that Adriano had wrapped boxing tape around his knuckles so he wouldn’t fuck up his hands as much.

Hadn’t helped Lazaro’s face any, though.

Dario tapped the phone screen. It flared to life but was locked.

“Did you try facial recognition before you fucked him up?” I asked.

“I did. There’s only a passcode, which he won’t GIVE ME,” Adriano said, shouting the last couple of words at Lazaro, who flinched.

“What’s the passcode, Lazaro?” I asked.

“I… I forgot,” he whimpered, then started blubbering. “He kept hitting me – I can’t think straight – ”

“Lazaro,” Dario said.

The man looked up at him like a frightened dog.

“I want you to tell me the truth,” Dario said quietly. “It’s very important that you’re honest with me, Lazaro – because we already know you’ve been in contact with my uncle.”

Lazaro started crying. He shook his head. “No… no, I haven’t… I swear…”

Dario’s tone never wavered: he was unfailingly gentle and soft-spoken. “Then give me the code to open the phone. That way we can confirm you’re telling the truth. Adriano will apologize – ”

“The hell I will,” Adriano snarled.

Dario gave him a sharp look, which silenced Adriano immediately. “Adriano will apologize, and I’ll provide you with a nice vacation and enough money to take several months off. You can go anywhere you like and recuperate on our dime. But you have to tell me the code.”

Lazaro kept crying silently.

“Because if you don’t tell me the code, Lazaro, that’s proof that you’re lying. It’s proof that you’ve been working behind my back all these months. It’s proof that you betrayed me to Fausto. So tell me the code, Lazaro.”

Lazaro just kept crying.

“When did you start working for him?”

Lazaro shook his head as he wept. “Please…”

“Did you tell Fausto where I was when the assassin tried to kill me?”

Lazaro sobbed. “…I didn’t tell him anything…”

Dario pulled something out of his pocket.

It was a switchblade –

And he opened it with the press of a button. Click!

With his free hand, he grabbed Lazaro’s head and forced him to look up –

As he held the tip of the blade a centimeter from Lazaro’s eyeball.

Suddenly, Dario’s voice became absolutely terrifying. “Did you tell him Alessandra was in Florence when the Turk’s men tried to take her?”

“No! No, I swear!” Lazaro cried out in panic. He tried to pull his head away from the knife tip, but Dario clamped down even harder.

“Did you help the old woman KILL MY FATHER?!” Dario roared.

“No! No, I swear!”

“THEN WHAT DID YOU TELL FAUSTO?!”

“I just – I put a microphone in the parlor after Adriano’s wedding! ” Lazaro blubbered. “And when Niccolo and Roberto went to Hong Kong, I told him about that!”

“And Taormina,” I said.

“And Taormina! Please don’t – please!”

“Was there anything else?” Dario snarled.

“No! No, I swear! Please!”

Dario let go of Lazaro’s head and stepped back.

He took a long pause…

But he didn’t sheathe the knife.

“What did he pay you to betray me?” Dario asked, his voice calm again.

Lazaro hung his head and wept.

“What did he pay you?” Dario repeated.

“…ten thousand euros a month…” Lazaro choked out.

“So – what – about 60,000 euros total?”

“…yes…”

Dario sighed in disgust. He pulled the pocket square from his jacket and wiped his fingers with the silk cloth. Then he folded the switchblade back into the handle.

“Don’t torture him anymore,” Dario said to Adriano. “Take him out back and make it quick and painless.”

“That’s more than he deserves,” Adriano hissed.

“It is. But do it anyway.”

Dario turned to walk out –

“Please…” Lazaro begged. “Don Rosolini, please… spare my life…”

“I hope 60,000 euros was worth it,” Dario said simply, then left the room.